Conclusions
by Slowhand
Summary: Harry and Hermione, alone in the Gryffindor common room. Use your imagination.


Harry looked at Hermione with longing. It was late into the night and the two were both sprawled in the Gryffindor common room alone. Ron and the others had long since been asleep, but Harry and Hermione stayed behind, claiming they had potions homework to finish, which wasn't entirely false.

As Harry stared, Hermione busily had her nose in _Hogwarts a History_, and smiled. It was probably the hundredth time she read it, but somehow she found it interesting.

"Why do you read that ghastly book so much?" asked Harry with a scowl. Hermione poked her head up and directed her eyes at him. He was lying across a puffy armchair, and Hermione, disgusted, answered, "Why don't _you _read this? I've been trying to get you to read it for ages. Just sometimes you are so pigheaded."

Harry smiled again. One of his favorite things to do was piss her off. She never was truly mad at him, and almost never took him to be serious. Harry couldn't help but notice her hair. It wasn't as bushy as it had once been. The bushiness seemed to calm down as she got older. Nonetheless, her hair was still pretty. Harry slapped himself mentally. He knew Ron fancied Hermione, although he would never admit it. _He would never admit it..._ Harry thought, for in fact, he fancied her too. It was quite the dilemma, and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that Hermione knew.

"I'd appreciate it if you stopped gawking at me," said Hermione tonelessly, "How am I ever supposed to get through this chapter by morning?" She never took her eyes off the page.

Harry snapped back to reality. "Sorry," he stammered. But honestly he couldn't keep his eyes off her. Now that they were in their sixth year, Hermione wasn't so repulsive anymore. She had grown up before his eyes, and he hadn't particularly noticed. They were alone, and their only company was the crackling fire. Harry knew that moments like this wouldn't come so often.

"You know, Hermione.." started Harry, but he really couldn't finish. He walked over to the table she was sitting at. Her book was propped against her schoolwork, and she glanced up at him as he ventured near.

"Yes, Harry? Are you just trying to take my mind off reading? Do you just _not _want me to finish.." Hermione said most annoyed.

Harry knew that it was about time he told her how he felt. Although he knew that if she didn't feel the same way, their friendship would pretty much be over.

"Well, Hermione, I just want you to know – that I – well, the fact is that – can I borrow your quill? And maybe some parchment?" said Harry pathetically. _Bad, bad, bad _Harry thought to himself. Why was it so hard for him to talk to Hermione. They have been friends since their first year.

"Uh, sure Harry. They're in my bag…" said Hermione, pointing to the foot of her chair.

"No, no. Hermione… I want to tell you something."

To Harry's surprise, Hermione jumped out of her chair, and came around the table to his side. "Did something happen, Harry? Is it about You-Know-Who?" she said seriously.

"No, actually. It's about you." said Harry bashfully. His skills in the Dark Arts weren't going to help him now. Hermione was now looking at him, eyebrows raised. "I just want you to know that if anything happens to me, that, well, bloody hell Hermione, I like you." Harry hung his head in embarrassment, just imagining what lecture she was about to give him.

Hermione was flushed and looked back at Harry, "Oh, Harry! I thought you would never say that." She flung her arms around Harry as he smiled, "And _I _thought you loved Ron!" chuckled Hermione with relief. Harry laughed too until she realized what she just said, but had the mind to ignore it. The only important thing was that he and Hermione were an item.

The feeling of Hermione in his arms was too much for Harry to deal with. He broke the embrace and looked into her dark eyes, his reflection bouncing off of them. His hand brushed strands of hair out of her face, and without properly thinking it over, he tilted his lips to meet hers. Hermione, somewhat taken aback, was quite sure this was what she wanted, and responded to his kiss. They were at it for a few minutes, hands in each other's hair, when they heard a bustle come down the dormitory stairs. The two broke apart and looked up.

There was Ron, looking at them with astonishment and great disbelief. "Oh Harry!" he blurted loudly, "And I thought you loved _me_!"

He started sobbing and raced back up the dormitory stairs, not believing what he just witnessed. Harry seemed to be quite disturbed and Hermione was stifling a laugh. She gave him a hug and said, "Not to worry! I hear threesomes are quite nice. You see I read about it in..."

Harry listened to Hermione's rapid ramble as he wondered to himself why he had such odd friends.


End file.
